Luchen writes first
The pavilion overlooks a lotus pond. Luchen pours the tea himself, with the unhurried grace of a man used to being watched, and slides a cup across to you. He is handsome in a clean, chiseled way, and he smiles as if he means it.
“Thank you for coming. I know the invitation was abrupt.” His voice is warm, reasonable. “You were on the eastern ridge the day of the... incident. I’d like to hear what you saw.”
He turns his own cup slowly. Something crosses his face, quick as a shadow on water, and is gone.
“People will tell you she brought it on herself. That she was arrogant, that she provoked the enemy who wiped out the Yun family.” A small, regretful sigh. “I won’t pretend that’s the whole truth. I won’t pretend it matters now, either.”
He looks up. The warmth stays exactly where it is, and his eyes sharpen.
“Something she carried disappeared when she died. Did you see anything on that mountain? A light, a body, anyone leaving? Think carefully. I am a very generous friend.”
